Home Is Where the Heart Is
by WickedForGood13
Summary: On the two-year anniversary of the Final Battle, feelings that have long been hidden are finally revealed.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own anything but a copy of the Harry Potter series. Thank you to HarmonyLover for the beta, and for being a friend and always listening when I've had something to say. I can truly say I'm a "Harmony" shipper because of you.

* * *

**Confessions**

_May 2, 2000_

It had been two years since the Final Battle; two years since the end of the Second War; two years since the Boy-Who-Lived – otherwise known as Harry Potter – had defeated Lord Voldemort in a spectacular showdown that would continue to be talked about even when all those who had been present were long gone.

A lot had changed in two years. Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had been previously named temporary Minister of Magic the morning of Voldemort's downfall, had been officially sworn in to office. Numerous Death Eaters had been tried and convicted, many receiving the Dementor's Kiss. The Malfoy family, with the exception of Lucius – who was sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban – had been cleared of all charges due to the benevolence of Harry Potter, who had informed the Wizengamot of both Draco and Narcissa's deceptions regarding his identity and state of health, respectively, thus enabling him to return and end Voldemort's reign of terror once and for all.

Another memorable trial was that of Dolores Umbridge, who was apprehended, in part, due to the ceaseless efforts of Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. The duo felt that the least they could do for Harry, after all he'd done for them and for the world, was to ensure that the toad who had forced him to use a Blood Quill – the scars of which he would bear forever – was permanently put out of commission. That day in court was the first time that Harry had laughed since Voldemort's demise. And, Hermione thought, who could blame him? The sight of Umbridge being dragged away – still spouting lies, the irony of which was not lost on anyone present – certainly posed an entertaining picture.

As for the three unlikely heroes, whose merits were still being praised, they had scattered throughout London – Harry, accompanied by Kreacher and Winky, had retired to Grimmauld Place and was shortly joined by Ron and Hermione. Ginny, Neville, and Luna, meanwhile, moved in to an apartment nearby so as to be close to their friends.

Ron Weasley was living out his childhood dream by playing for the Chudley Cannons as Keeper. Though he had briefly dated Hermione after the Final Battle's conclusion, their romantic relationship had fizzled, and they were now just good friends. He was soon seeing Luna Lovegood, and had been with her for almost a year. Those close to the couple often remarked how Luna's sweetness and ability to perceive what others around her missed had seemingly rubbed off on Ron, who was now more sensitive and caring than he had previously been.

Hermione Granger was working for the Ministry in the Law department, securing more rights for magical creatures – particularly house elves – that had been previously denied, both by the Ministry before the current reformation, and by Voldemort. After her romance with Ron had ended, she happily remained single, eager for the chance to discover who she was without the threat of a war hanging over her head.

Harry Potter, like Hermione, was working for the Ministry, but as an Auror. Though Voldemort had been defeated, there would always be Dark witches and wizards seeking power over others. Harry's task was to find these individuals and eliminate them. His partner on these missions, surprisingly, was none other than Draco Malfoy.

After being released, Draco had immediately set about to becoming an Auror – an act of good faith that he hoped would erase the previous misdeeds of his father, as well as clear his name in the eyes of society. Although many people were at first suspicious of his intentions, Draco proved himself again and again, even risking his life for Harry on several occasions, and the two formed a tentative friendship, their light and dark looks a sharp contrast to their actual personalities. Eventually, Harry asked Draco to move in to Grimmauld Place with him. Although a certain amount of animosity between Draco and the Golden Trio – especially Ron – remained, left over from their school days, Harry, frustrated by his supposed-friends' lack of acceptance, insisted that bygones be bygones, and Draco was "initiated" into their group.

As for Harry's love life, he'd reconciled with Ginny Weasley immediately following the Final Battle, and the two dated for a time before mutually agreeing to separate as friends – the year apart while Harry had been Horcrux Hunting and Ginny had been at Hogwarts were too much for their already fragile relationship to handle. They remained close, though, as did all those in the Weasley family where Harry Potter was concerned, and Harry was still a frequent visitor to the Burrow, as was Hermione.

* * *

On May 2, the two-year anniversary of Voldemort's death was hailed with as much pomp as the previous year's had been – if not more. The Ministry's ballroom – which had previously been suffering from lack of use due to the war, but had since been restored to its former glory – was decorated as befit the occasion, and filled to capacity.

However, those whose presence had been requested most emphatically – the ones who had done more for the war effort and the subsequent recovery than anyone else – were sitting around the kitchen table of Grimmauld Place: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ginny Weasley, and Draco Malfoy.

None wished to socialize that night, for they'd been through enough. Why would they go to a public event where deeds they would prefer to forget were lauded? Rather, they drew comfort from knowing that they weren't alone in their isolation, for isolated they were. Being looked up to and set apart from others for circumstances beyond their control – or for merely doing what they'd seen as their duty – was not how they wished to be known. All they wanted – all any of them, really, had ever desired – was to be _normal_.

"Can you believe that _he's_ been gone for two years now?" whispered Ginny into the silence that was permeating the group.

"Yeah, it's hard to imagine," Neville muttered, pulling Ginny closer and wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. Shortly after her and Harry's break-up, Ginny was asked out by Neville – and accepted. Their time as the resurrected DA's leaders had been instrumental in sealing their bond, and they'd become inseparable ever since.

"If someone had told me two years ago that I would have – what's the phrase? – "seen the light," I would have told them they were crazy and had them committed to St. Mungo's," said Draco with a laugh.

"Guess you're proof that blood isn't everything, eh, Malfoy?" asked Ron, giving him a playful shove that was met with tolerant smiles. Though Ron and Draco had mended the rift that had been a direct result of their school years, they still took pleasure in taunting the other, if only for old times' sake.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Weasley?" countered Draco.

"Now, boys – be nice," Hermione admonished gently.

"Yes, _Mum_," they chorused.

Hermione merely rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Draco's turn-around had been surprising to most, but not to her. She'd always felt that given the proper encouragement, Draco Malfoy had the potential to rise above his circumstances and become a better man than his father. Following his and Harry's reconciliation, Draco had come to her on bended knee (quite literally, effectively rendering Hermione speechless), begging her forgiveness for all the cruel things he had said and done during their time together at school. Of course, there was no question as to Hermione forgiving him whole-heartedly, and they had since embarked on a wonderful friendship.

"So, Hermione, when do you leave for Switzerland?" asked Draco, referring to the trip her parents had been planning to mend their broken relationship with their daughter.

"Tomorrow morning. I'll be gone for two weeks," said Hermione, shuddering dramatically. She was _not_ looking forward to what her parents had planned – skiing, for which she had absolutely no coordination, and therefore, no skill. However, she would suffer in silence if it meant regaining her parents' trust.

After the war ended, Hermione had traveled to Australia with Ron and Harry to reverse the memory charm on her parents, and to explain what she'd been doing and why. To say that her parents were not happy would have been an understatement. Though they didn't rant and rave, as Hermione had expected them to, they'd begun to treat her differently, almost as if they were afraid of her. She wouldn't blame them, now that they knew the full extent of her magic and what she could do with it. If she could alter their lives so completely, and leave them unsuspecting that anything was wrong, then it stood to reason that she could use her powers for evil as easily as for good.

Shaking her head to clear it of any errant thoughts regarding those first few tumultuous months, Hermione rose to join the others in the refurbished sitting room. Following the war, Harry had been reluctant to return to Grimmauld Place – the house held nothing but painful memories for him. However, with nowhere else to go – he wouldn't hear of imposing on the Weasleys in their time of grief – he found that he had no choice but to return to the home of his godfather's family. Harry spent his days in Sirius' old bedroom, berating himself for having waited to face Voldemort when he did, the result of which had been the loss of many innocent lives that had not needed to be sacrificed. It was Hermione who had found Harry lying in bed, staring morosely at the ceiling, and finally managed to convince him to eat something and to start taking care of himself again.

That was when Harry had joined the Auror program, sailing unimpeded through training. While his first mission had shaped up to be a disaster – Harry had almost thrown a tantrum at learning that _Draco Malfoy_, of all people, was to be his partner – it had gone surprisingly well, and Harry had offered his hand in friendship to Malfoy, who became _Draco_ to everyone from that day on. Soon after, Draco had moved in with Harry. Upon his arrival at Grimmauld Place, Draco had immediately set about redecorating a house that, in his own words, gave ghosts a bad name. He further insisted that Harry assist him. Having something constructive to do did wonders for Harry's health, and did a lot to improve Hermione and Ron's opinion of Mal-_Draco_, who had gotten through to Harry when Hermione herself had barely managed to.

A lot had changed since their school days, Hermione mused, as she observed the couples inhabiting the cozy room. Ron and Luna were sitting incredibly close together on the loveseat, talking quietly. Ron was hanging on to Luna's every word, as opposed to when he and Hermione had been together. Then, he had only pretended to be interested in what she had to say. Luna really had brought a remarkable change about in Ron, and for the better, too. Ginny was seated on the sofa, Neville's head resting in her lap as she read to him. Hermione smiled to herself as she watched Neville look adoringly up at Ginny, reaching a tentative hand up to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Ginny paused to bend over and kiss him, smiling sweetly at him before returning to her book. As for Harry and Draco, they were playing chess in front of the fire. Harry was losing – badly, too, from the look of things – but Draco was a gracious winner. Whereas before he would have held any sort of a victory over Harry's head, he now accepted his congratulations with modesty, and offered Harry another chance to beat him. One thing hadn't changed – both boys were still extremely competitive, and would play well into the night unless Hermione put a stop to it.

Chuckling wryly at the thought of what her boys would do and say if she tried to come between them and their games, Hermione picked up a book of her own, a copy of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" that she had bought in a quaint little bookstore that afternoon. She hadn't read "The Chronicles of Narnia" since she was a little girl, but she recalled immensely enjoying the tale of ordinary schoolchildren being thrust into a land of magic. She could relate to their adventures now as she couldn't have before going to Hogwarts and befriending Harry. Opening the first page, she was soon transported to an England of old, accompanying Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy through the wardrobe as they discovered a place of enchantment they had never dared to dream existed.

As she read, Hermione could feel her eyelids growing heavy, despite her best efforts. Ever since the Final Battle, she hadn't been sleeping well. Most nights found her gasping for air, the sweaty sheets twisted around her body as she sought to escape the clutches of one nightmare or another. She had eventually reached the point where she began to cast a Silencing Charm on her room to avoid disturbing her housemates. She didn't want them to know about her dreams, especially Harry. He would only blame himself, as he did in all matters where his friends were concerned.

Succumbing to her body's need for rest, Hermione felt the book slip from her hands as she fell back against the head of her chair. She was asleep in moments.

* * *

_"I'll go with you."_

_Hogwarts was in ruins. Piles of rubble littered the vast hallways and cluttered the magnificent staircases. Dust and smoke filled the air, as did the lingering traces of death. No longer were students bustling around as they hurried to get to class on time, or clustered in groups as they discussed the latest Quidditch match or something else that was equally as frivolous. No more did friendly ghosts float above the ground as they roamed the halls, conversing with students and teachers alike. There wasn't any sign of movement. Everything was deadly silent. So much had changed, Hermione mused, to the point where she hardly recognized the castle that had been her home for six glorious years._

"_You're sentencing yourself to death, 'Mione," said Harry in answer to her bold declaration that she would accompany him to the Forest._

"_I don't care. I'd rather die with you than live without you."_

_With that, she flung herself at him, never doubting that Harry would catch her. He always did, after all. "I love you," she whispered softly, her voice muffled from being buried in the crook of his neck._

"_I know," he said. "I love you too, Hermione."_

_They pulled away slightly, resting their foreheads together, only to lean forward again and meet in the middle. That first kiss was brief – nothing more than their lips brushing gently together. But to both Harry and Hermione, who each felt a warm glow begin to spread throughout their bodies, it was perfect. Sweet and simple, just like them – two parts of one whole, reunited at last. And now, they would face death together rather than be separated._

_Reluctantly, they drew apart, both sensing that the time to act was upon them. Hands clasped, fingers intertwined, they set off for the Forest. The walk was silent – as the grave, Hermione mentally added, noting the irony of such a thought – filled with covert glances and meaningful touches. No words were needed when the two friends, companions, and lovers had always understood one another completely and been able to read each other like a book._

_As they neared the clearing where Voldemort and his minions were gathered, Harry gave Hermione's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Everything's going to be fine," he told her._

"_Of course," she replied, smiling serenely at him. "I love you, Harry," she said, abruptly surging forward to capture his lips in a searing kiss._

"_I love you too, Hermione," he whispered back, returning her kiss with equal passion._

_Hands clasped, they continued steadily on. In what seemed to be no time at all – and an eternity, too – Harry and Hermione had reached their final destination. They walked confidently forward, immediately attracting the attention of everyone present. Voldemort stood considering them in silence, a twisted grin playing across his face. Hermione, though terrified, felt herself relax at the sensation of Harry's calloused fingers gripping hers. Harry, for his part, met Voldemort's gaze impassively._

"_Well," he said, a lot braver than he felt, "We're here."_

"_Indeed," Voldemort murmured. "And I see you've brought your Mudblood to die with you. How touching."_

"_Don't call her that," Harry exclaimed, prepared to defend Hermione, even in the face of certain death. "Her blood is purer than yours will ever be."_

_Voldemort merely sneered at them, obviously secure in the knowledge that they would soon be dead and he would be triumphant. Harry found that he didn't care anymore. All he wanted was for everything to be over so that he could finally find peace. His hold on Hermione's hand tightened while he waited for Voldemort to speak the words that would end their lives. As though separated from his body, he watched from a distance as Voldemort raised his wand. There was a flash of green light, and then no more._

"_HARRY!"_

* * *

"HARRY!"

Hermione woke with a start, limbs flailing and gasping for air, still screaming Harry's name. She looked around wildly, almost expecting to find herself in the Forest clearing again, but all she saw were the worried expressions of her friends staring back at her. Harry crouched in front of her, hands firmly gripping her shoulders as he sought to bring her back from the brink of hyperventilating.

"It's okay, Hermione," he whispered. "Just breathe. Everything's fine. You're safe now."

"Oh, Harry," she sobbed, collapsing in his arms. He held her close, rubbing her back and stroking her hair as he whispered soothing reassurances in her ear. Eventually, her breathing slowed and her muscles relaxed as she melted into Harry's embrace.

"I've got you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she would sometimes do to him. His touch seemed to calm her, for when Hermione pulled away, she was once more composed, and the mask she wore firmly in place.

"I'm sorry about that," she said gravely, speaking directly to Harry as though they were the only two in the room. "I don't know what came over me."

"No need to apologize," said Harry, reaching out a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her face. "All you did was fall asleep. You must have had a nightmare, though. Want to talk about it?"

A look of abject terror crept into Hermione's countenance. She couldn't possibly tell Harry about her dream. It would change everything. Harry would never be able to look at her the same, ever again, and their easy friendship that had been years in the making would be ruined. She couldn't allow that to happen, no matter the cost.

"I'm fine, Harry," she said instead. "You worry too much."

Harry gave her a calculating glance, but let her blatant lie go. Hermione was under no illusions that he would forget this incident, though. They _would_ be talking, but hopefully in the far distant future after she had had more time to build up her defenses and better protect her heart.

As if time had been slowed down before, everything returned to its normal order and pace. Sounds that had been muted suddenly roared back to life. The fire glowed and crackled, emitting sparks; Draco reset the chess board, all while sending Hermione furtive glances; Ron and Luna returned to talking with Neville and Ginny, who had abandoned her book in favor of conversation. Harry, meanwhile, seemed hesitant to leave Hermione's side. He remained perched on the edge of her seat, an arm wrapped securely around her shoulder as though he were attempting to shield her from the outside world. Hermione appreciated the gesture, however unnecessary it was.

"Are you _sure_ you're alright?" asked Harry again, bending low to whisper in her ear.

"Positive," she replied surely. "I'm fine, really. It was just a dream."

"Just a dream..." Harry murmured contemplatively. Shooting her one last worried glance, he rejoined Draco on the floor for another game of chess.

It was late in the evening when everyone finally decided to retire for the night. Throughout the rest of their time together, Hermione had sensed her friends' gaze on her, but she ignored their pointed stares, preferring to read. Though Hermione did not deny the excitement that had often accompanied the dangerous adventures she had been on, she still enjoyed escaping reality through words that seemed to leap off the page. She could practically _see_ Aslan, in all his magnificence, and the Pevensie monarchs take shape before her very eyes. She wanted that world – she wanted that life, if only because it was not her own.

"Hermione," called Harry, his voice pulling her from her reverie. When she looked up, Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Ron were standing by the fireplace looking expectantly at her.

"We'll be going now," said Ginny. "Bye, 'Mione."

"Goodbye, Ginny," said Hermione, smiling gently at her friend. She looked to Ron next, who, correctly interpreting her unspoken question, said, "I'm spending the night with Luna. There never seems enough time to be together."

Hermione beamed as she watched them share a sweet and simple kiss. Her face fell suddenly as she was struck by how that could be her and Harry. The tender care with which Ron treated Luna reminded her of how Harry treated her just as friends. He'd always looked out for her best interests, only interfering when he thought she could come to harm. What could they be if they were joined by more than friendship, but by love as well? However much Hermione had tried to hide her feelings deep inside, she could no longer deny the intensity with which she felt for Harry, these feelings having manifested themselves in her dream.

These thoughts ran through her head as she watched the others disappear in the bright green flames. She shuddered slightly, having been reminded of the burst of green light that had accompanied Harry's death in her dream. She shook her melancholy off, though, before either Harry or Draco could notice that anything was still amiss with her. After all, it wouldn't do to have them start asking questions that she'd already managed to successfully evade before.

"I think it's time I go to bed myself," said Hermione, "Goodnight, you two." She embraced them both, briefly pecking their cheeks, before disappearing upstairs to the sanctuary of her room, where she locked the door and cast the usual spells that ensured her privacy.

Harry watched her ascent intently, while Draco watched him watch Hermione. He had seen the way Harry would look at her, and had prepared himself for the inevitability that he would be left alone in the end. He couldn't regret saving Harry's life for Hermione's sake if it meant that his friends were happy. All he had ever desired was their trust, and he had that in spades. He would let Harry go – he couldn't be selfish, however much he might be tempted.

Wordlessly, the young men retired to their own chambers, Draco clapping Harry once on the shoulder in reassurance that everything would be fine – if not right away, then eventually. Harry smiled tiredly at him, yet Draco knew instinctively that he was grateful for the show of support. He nodded in understanding, before entering his room and leaning heavily against the doorframe. Spending time with Harry – and keeping up the pretence of simple friendship – was becoming more and more trying. Nonetheless, he would continue to follow the path he had set for himself, no matter the personal cost. That was love, he realized – no longer caring for yourself, but only for the person you had feelings for. He readied himself for bed and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

In the room next door, Harry laid tossing and turning restlessly. He was worried about Hermione – there was no point in denying this fact. He cared a great deal for her – he always had – and he hated sitting idly by and watching her suffer. He just wished that she would confide in him. Harry knew that he could help, if only she would let him in. Punching his pillow, he tried to make himself comfortable. When that proved futile, he resorted to lying on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he whispered. "Sleep well."

Across the hall, Hermione was having a similar difficulty in getting to sleep. "Goodnight, Harry," she said. "Sleep well. I love you."

The house fell silent as sleep finally claimed its occupants.

* * *

Life without Hermione passed painfully slowly. Harry had never realized before how much he relied on her presence and being able to see her each and every day. Her smile did more to brighten his day than anything else.

Considering that only a week had gone by, then, an additional week would seem like an eternity, Harry thought ruefully.

Therefore, he was understandably startled when, with a sharp crack, Hermione suddenly appeared in the living room of Grimmauld Place, upsetting the chess board that he and Draco had been concentrating intently on mere moments before.

"Hermione!" exclaimed Draco in alarm. "What's wrong? Why are you back so soon?"

Harry responded without words, immediately moving to take Hermione in his arms when it seemed as though her knees would buckle under her weight. She was shaking like a leaf as Harry gently set her on the sofa, and he motioned for Draco to fetch a thick woolen blanket to warm her. Draco returned and tenderly tucked Hermione in. The two men, in looking down at her, thought that she had never looked younger, and they realized what the cruelties of war had taken from them all: their childhood. Harry sat down by Hermione's side, taking her hand in his and rubbing vigorously in an effort to restore the flow of blood. Draco perched on the edge of the sofa's armrest, waiting for some sign as to what he should be doing. He couldn't help but feel as though he were intruding on a private moment between two lovers, despite Harry and Hermione's purported belief that they were nothing more than friends.

Hermione had yet to say a word; she just continued to tremble, clinging to Harry as though he were her lifeline. And in a way, Draco mused, Harry was. Harry, who had been there for Hermione from the beginning; who had remembered that she was alone in a bathroom and taken on a mountain troll in order to protect her; who had continued to stand by her throughout the years. They completed each other, Draco realized with startling clarity. They had always been destined for each other; they were the half that made the other whole. Draco watched as the pair of them seemed to communicate through their eyes alone, and it was as if he could see the future play out before him: Harry and Hermione would confess their love, get married, and go on to have a family. Where was his place in such a happy scene? The truth was that there wasn't room for him; there never had been, and Draco had just been delaying the inevitable.

"I should go," he whispered, "I'll leave you two to talk things out."

He left without another word, neither Harry nor Hermione acknowledging his departure. Draco wasn't hurt, however. He understood what it was like to be so caught up in another person that you didn't notice the rest of the world passing you by. As such, he knew that not even an earthquake would part Harry and Hermione, not now when they were so close to admitting what others around them already knew.

Meanwhile, as Draco walked the streets in an effort to clear his head before making his way to the home of Astoria Greengrass, Harry and Hermione were embroiled in a battle of wills: Hermione refused to speak about what was troubling her, while Harry was just as determined that she would tell him what had happened, the better for him to be able to help her recover.

"Please, 'Mione?" begged Harry, desperate enough to kneel beseechingly before her. It tore him up inside to see the woman he loved so distraught.

With a shuddering breath, Hermione moved to sit upright, gesturing for Harry to join her on the sofa. He quickly acquiesced, and shifted Hermione's pliant body so that she was curled against his side, her feet tucked up underneath her like a cat. Chuckling at the memory of Hermione with a tail and whiskers, he subconsciously pulled her closer, dropping a kiss on her hair.

"Will you tell me now?" he whispered pleadingly.

"My parents and I had a fight," Hermione responded without preamble. "Things have been building between us for a while now, so there was bound to be an explosion sooner or later."

"What was the fight about? I thought the point behind this trip to Switzerland was for you and your parents to fix your relationship rather than tear it further apart." Harry was bewildered by this turn of events.

"Yes, that _was_ the plan," Hermione agreed with a wry chuckle. "But since when has anything that you or Ron or I have done ever gone according to plan?"

"True," Harry conceded, joining Hermione in laughter. "So... what happened?"

"I don't even remember how it started," Hermione began hesitantly. "But somehow we got into a heated discussion about the war and what I'd done to them – never mind the fact that it was to keep them safe. Things escalated to the point where they said they never wanted to see me again, and I left."

Harry stifled a gasp at Hermione's startling revelation. Her parents didn't want to see her anymore? How could that be possible? Hermione's parents had always been devoted to her, and she to them. When had things gone so horribly wrong? It had to be the war and Voldemort... and him. If Hermione hadn't been his friend, she wouldn't have felt obligated to join him in hunting Horcruxes, and she and her parents wouldn't now be divided.

"Harry James Potter, stop thinking this instant," Hermione abruptly ordered.

Drawn out of his morbid reverie, Harry turned to find that Hermione had moved so she could face him sitting cross-legged. She looked serene – at peace, almost – except for her eyes, which were blazing with barely concealed fury.

"Don't you _dare_ try to blame yourself for this," Hermione continued, now that she was sure of his attention. "I made my choice, and my parents have made theirs. What's done is done."

"How can you be so calm about this?" asked Harry. "All I've ever wanted is to know my parents. Yet you give yours up willingly. Why?"

"Forced to choose between you and them, I will always pick you, Harry," said Hermione, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek when he glanced down at his lap in embarrassment, hesitant to meet her eyes.

Looking up at her through his lashes, Harry dared to ask a question that had been bothering him for some time, "Does this have anything to do with your nightmare?"

"Yes," Hermione replied simply. "How did you know?"

"You always call for me," Harry began. "Then, there's the fact that I'm the only one allowed close enough to touch you, as though I'm the only one who can bring you back to the real world."

"Sometimes I wonder if this _is_ the real world," Hermione mused.

"What do you dream about, 'Mione?" asked Harry.

Hermione considered him for a long time, as though measuring his sincerity with what she had to share. They were rapidly approaching a fork in the road of their relationship – with one path, they would stay as they were; with the other, they would change beyond recognition. It was as if Hermione no longer knew what was up and what was down. She was scared of opening herself up to rejection, but she knew that was the only way to find out the truth, which was what she had always desired. It was why she spent as much time as she did in the library, both at Hogwarts and at Grimmauld Place. Sighing, Hermione resigned herself with what was to come.

"I dream of the battle," she revealed at long last. "I dream about going with you to the forest. In my dream, after I've said that I'll go with you, I tell you that I love you and we kiss. We walk to meet Voldemort, and right as he casts the Killing Curse, I wake up screaming your name."

Now Hermione was the one to look at her lap, fiddling with her fingers as she waited for Harry to react to what she'd just told him.

"And does your dream reflect your true feelings, or are they only imaginary?" Harry asked gravely.

"I love you, Harry," said Hermione quickly, "Asleep or awake; dead or alive. I'll always love you; I don't think I could ever stop."

"Thank the Merlin," Harry whispered breathlessly. "I love you too, Hermione."

"Really?" she asked in a hope-filled voice.

Harry nodded wordlessly. "How long have you loved me?" he asked her softly.

"Since third year," Hermione replied shyly, almost as though she were ashamed of her feelings, sure as she still was that Harry only saw her as a friend, despite his having already said that he loved her.

"I think for me," Harry said contemplatively, "that I've always loved you – ever since you fixed my glasses on the train. Forgive the cliché – but it was as though I were seeing clearly for the first time. However, I didn't acknowledge my feelings until Slughorn's Christmas party. Remember, I asked you to go as friends? It wasn't until later when I realized why that felt so wrong – it was because I loved you, not as a sister, but as the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with."

"Harry—" gasped Hermione in awe, for no one had ever said such wonderful things to her before.

"I love you, Hermione," he declared passionately, tears beginning to pool in his eyes and stream down his cheeks. "Never doubt that."

"Never," she vowed, equally as tearful.

They leaned forward as one, their lips meeting in the middle. Harry's first kiss with Hermione was as wet and salty as his first kiss with Cho had been. However, a kiss with Hermione would ultimately mean so much more because they were destined to last, unlike him and Cho, or even him and Ginny. As they kissed, Hermione gasped with pleasure at the sensation of Harry's soft and supple lips moving with hers, something previously reserved for only in her dreams.

Reality, Hermione decided, had become so much better than fantasy.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks again to HarmonyLover for the beta and for her constant encouragement and support :)

* * *

**Tying the Knot**

_May 6, 2002_

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

It had been two years – two _glorious, magnificent, wonderful_ years – since Harry and Hermione had confessed to loving each other with tears streaming down their faces. In that time, much had changed. Ron and Luna had moved into their own flat, leaving Neville and Ginny to take possession of the one they had previously shared with the eccentric blonde. Meanwhile, though Draco continued to live at Grimmauld Place with Harry and Hermione, he spent many hours with Astoria Greengrass, choosing to remain out of the happy couple's way rather than constantly force his company on them. Of course, the "happy couple" wouldn't have minded in the least; both Harry and Hermione were extremely devoted to Draco and always enjoyed spending time with him.

Now, looping her arm through Harry's, Hermione stood by her new husband as their friends and surrogate family converged on them. Two years ago, if someone had told her that she would be marrying the man of her dreams, she would have said that they were out of their mind. Though she had never been able to imagine being without Harry – after all, from the time she was eleven, he had always been an integral part of her life – something had changed upon their confessions of love to each other. Hermione had never viewed herself as being dependent on anyone – in fact, she'd always prided herself on her independence – but if Harry were to ever leave her, she thought that she just might die. Harry, for his part, couldn't stop smiling. After years of doubting his own worth – especially when it came to being deserving of Hermione – here he was, standing beside her, having just been married.

Immediately following Hermione's return from Switzerland – and without her parents – Harry had accompanied her to confront the Grangers regarding their behavior where their daughter was concerned. However, nothing could convince them to accept Hermione for what she was: the brightest witch of her age. Her actions as a result of the war, despite being for their own good, were unforgiveable as far as the Grangers were concerned. They washed their hands of her, though they wished Hermione the best in the life she had chosen with Harry. Disappointed, but determined to try again, Harry and Hermione had returned to Grimmauld Place where they were greeted by Draco, who offered them his support, having gone through the same type of rejection by his own parents.

Narcissa, despite having lied to Voldemort to protect Harry, had viewed her actions as the means to an end – namely, penetrating Hogwarts' defenses and finding her son. Following the war's conclusion, she hadn't understood why Draco had applied to the Auror program and willingly chose to work with Harry Potter. Since then, mother and son had had no contact, despite the deep love they had once shared and felt for each other. As for Lucius, all Draco had heard since his arrest was a Howler that declared him a disgrace to the Malfoy name. Draco hadn't cared what either of his parents had to say, and had continued to go about his business, an orphan for all intents and purposes.

When Harry learned of Draco's position, he informed the blond of his and Hermione's plans: they were commissioning a house to be built where Luna's father used to live before he had decided to travel abroad full-time, having bequeathed the Quibbler to Luna. Though Harry and Hermione had only recently become a couple, they each knew that the other was "the one" for them. As such, there was little doubt in their minds that they would eventually marry. Once they had done so, they would then move into the new house upon returning from their honeymoon, leaving Grimmauld Place to stand empty, unless Draco chose to remain there. Touched by Harry and the future Mrs. Potter's offer to provide for him, Draco accepted.

No one seemed to notice as he began to retreat further into himself, save for Ginny. As the years had gone by, the youngest Weasley had striven to look past the mask that Draco had worn during their school years. As it had been with Hermione, a beautiful friendship blossomed between the two, and Draco soon found himself confiding his true feelings for Harry to her. Ginny understood, having once carried the torch for Harry herself. She gave Draco the same advice that Hermione herself had once given: be yourself. Though no earthly force will ever break Harry and Hermione apart, Ginny said, loosening up and being more natural will make the pain easier to bear. Draco took her words to heart, and found that she spoke the truth. He might not hurt any less when he saw Harry and Hermione together – whether walking, holding hands, or kissing – but he had found a way of coming to terms with his emotions.

* * *

As Harry carefully placed one of his hands in Hermione's and the other on her waist in preparation for their first dance together as a married couple, she trembled with barely concealed pleasure. Even after two years, his touch still managed to send shivers down her spine.

"Have I mentioned lately how beautiful I think you look, Mrs. Potter?" he asked, smiling tenderly at her.

"Mrs. Potter," Hermione sighed to herself. "It sounds so wonderful when you say it."

"Mrs. Potter," Harry whispered, while leaning in to capture her lips with his.

Barely pulling away, Hermione murmured in response, "And yes, you have mentioned that you think I'm beautiful. But it doesn't hurt to hear again."

At this, they both smiled.

"If I have my way, 'Mione, you'll hear how amazingly beautiful you are every minute of every single day," declared Harry.

"Thank you, Harry."

"You don't have to thank me for telling the truth. But you're welcome. I love you, sweet girl, more than my own life."

Smiling softly to herself, Hermione nestled her head in the crook of Harry's neck, her cheek coming to rest on his shoulder, and let him lead her around the dance floor. Harry held Hermione close to his chest, remembering the way she had slowly made her way down the aisle, gripping a bouquet of white lilies, and how he thought she'd never looked prettier in the strapless pale pink gown she had chosen to wear, with its wide sweeping skirt and train and the silver rose attached to the bodice. It was like seeing a fairytale princess walk right off the pages of a storybook and into the real world. In the moment that they were joined in matrimony, neither Harry nor Hermione had ever been happier in their lives – and that included the night they had first made love.

It had been a cold winter evening, their first Christmas spent together as a couple. They'd been curled up in front of the fireplace, listening to the radio, when "their" song came on, the one they had danced to while in the midst of hunting for horcruxes. Untangling the blanket from around them, Harry had stood and offered Hermione's his hand, sweeping her around the room in a similar manner as when they had first danced to this song. However, unlike the last time, there wasn't an underlying tension permeating the room, and fear no longer hung over their heads like an axe – they were free to enjoy the moment, and they did. As the song ended, Harry had drawn Hermione close and began to kiss her. Eventually, the pair sank to their knees on the floor, hands reaching tentatively for sweaters and jeans. Passion soon overrode all else as skin slid softly against skin. Harry explored every inch of Hermione's body with both his hands and his lips, worshipping her as she so richly deserved. Hermione returned the favor, driving Harry crazy with what she could do with her tongue. Finally, when they couldn't bear to draw out the moment any longer for fear of exploding, Harry eased inside Hermione, taking into consideration that this was her first time – his, as well, for that matter – and taking care to be gentle with her.

They lay together afterwards, basking in the glow of the firelight, their bodies fully sated from their activities. They fell asleep where they were, the blanket drawn up around their naked chests to save Draco the embarrassment of discovering them without any clothes on.

Their relationship had only improved from that time on. Having been joined in the most intimate of acts, Harry saw no reason to put off getting engaged and proposed to Hermione the following week, though only after having spent hours searching for the perfect ring: a silver band with a big diamond in the middle and little diamonds descending halfway down from either side. Harry arranged for them to spend a pleasant evening at home, alone. He cooked the dinner _and_ served it, having given Kreacher and Winky the night off. Then, before bringing out the dessert, he got down on one knee by Hermione's chair, producing an elegant velveteen box, and asked her a question, to which she replied with a tearful, "Yes, of course." They kissed, and would have retreated to the bedroom, had Hermione not insisted on sampling the tiramisu that Harry claimed to have slaved over. They took turns spoon-feeding each other, before hurrying upstairs where they quickly shed all of their clothes. _That_ was certainly a night to remember.

The next day, Harry and Hermione gathered all of the Weasleys together and announced that they were engaged. After accepting everyone's congratulations, they asked the Weasleys' permission to be married at the Burrow. They were laughed at, though not unkindly, and informed that they didn't need to ask to use their own home. Harry and Hermione didn't want to make a big to-do about their wedding, something for the papers to go on about. Therefore, a guest list was quickly decided on: family only, which meant that, basically, all in attendance would be the Weasleys and their respective partners, whether married or otherwise. Harry asked Ron to be his best man, while Ginny would be Hermione's maid of honor. Luna and Neville would walk down the aisle as bridesmaid and groomsman.

Almost a year-and-a-half before, and here everyone was congregated in the Weasley garden, finally watching Harry and Hermione recite their vows under an arbor of roses. It was a beautiful sight, one that had long been coming, for Harry and Hermione were perfectly suited for each other, a match made in heaven.

Draco stared, entranced by the bride's radiance, which was only accentuated by the jewelry he had gifted her with to match her dress. The aquamarine pendant she wore sparkled in the sunlight, as did the pink tourmaline earrings that dangled enticingly from her ears. He'd taken Ginny shopping with him, afraid of buying something that would clash with Hermione's skin tone, or something of that sort. Really, though, he just wanted a chance to talk with Ginny alone, maybe even cry a little about losing the man he loved to another woman. Still, he couldn't imagine conceding to anyone but Hermione. What was Draco compared to her? Nothing but a former Death Eater. What did he have going for him that could possibly tempt Harry? Ginny let him have his way for a little while, understanding that he needed to vent. But she soon snapped him out of his mood by telling him that he would do better to throw himself into making this an unforgettable day for Harry and Hermione rather than dwell on what could have been.

Harry further eased Draco's pain, albeit unsuspectingly, by creating a ring of friendship out of all of their birthstones – meaning Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Luna, Ginny, and Neville's – set in a silver band that everyone chose to wear on a chain around their neck. Being included meant more to Draco than anyone could have possibly guessed, with the exception of Ginny, from whom Draco kept no secrets.

* * *

"So..." said Draco, drawing out the single syllable as he fell into a chair next to Harry, "How does it feel to be a married man, now, Potter?"

Harry smiled disarmingly at him and answered, "Pretty good, so far."

"I'm happy for you, Harry," Draco continued. "You and Hermione deserve each other."

"Thanks." Harry smiled at him again. "I know you haven't been completely yourself lately, Draco, but I hope you know that you can come and talk to me about anything, anything at all."

"I know, Harry. But nothing's bothering me, I assure you."

"Well, if anything ever does, I'm here for you, as is Hermione and all the rest. You may have had a rocky start, but you're one of us now, Draco, and we look out for our own."

"Thanks, Harry. I certainly appreciate it, you know that."

"Anytime, mate," Harry replied distractedly, searching the crowd for Hermione, who had been whisked away by one of the Weasley brothers.

"I hope you have a wonderful life, Harry Potter," whispered Draco, leaning forward to briefly press a kiss to Harry's forehead, directly over his distinctive lightning-bolt scar. "You've earned it after all that I and others have put you through." Then, with one last backward glance at the man who had unwittingly stolen his heart, Draco weaved through the Weasley clan to approach the table where Ginny and Neville were currently conversing.

"Mind if I borrow your girl for a dance, Neville?" asked Draco courteously.

"Be my guest," Neville replied.

"Am I so easily bought, then?" asked Ginny, shooting her boyfriend a mock glare.

"Don't worry, Gin," said Neville. "You're still the queen of my heart."

"Aww," Ginny cooed, kissing him sweetly on the lips before allowing Draco to lead her away.

The two posed quite a picture on the dance floor: Draco, in his fancy dress robes; Ginny, in the simple purple dress that fell to her knees that Hermione had chosen for her and Luna to wear as bridesmaids. The dress had a band going around its middle that was decorated with flowers, while the sleeves consisted of soft netting. Harry had accentuated both her and Luna's outfits by providing them with jewelry made of their birthstones: for Ginny, peridot; for Luna, topaz.

She and Draco danced in silence for several moments as he tried to collect his thoughts. Ginny gave him his space, understanding how hard this must be for him.

"We'll always be friends, won't we, Gin?" he asked her at last.

"Of course, Draco," she replied softly. "I have no intentions of leaving you."

At her pronouncement, Draco clung to her all the more, wrapping his arms securely around her back and holding on tighter as he buried his head in her flaming red hair, breathing in her distinctive flowery scent. "Thank you," he whispered. "I never had friends before Harry and you and all the others, and I'll do whatever it takes to stay with you."

"Do you honestly think that we'd let you go without a fight?" asked Ginny in disbelief. "After all, you're one of us now," she concluded, unknowingly echoing Harry's earlier words.

They swayed together in place for a few more minutes, before Draco felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to discover Harry standing behind him, clearly intent on dancing with Ginny at least once. Acquiescing to his former rival, Draco bent low over Ginny's hand and kissed her knuckles – they had a long-standing joke between them that he was a chivalrous knight and she a fair maiden – before departing in search of Hermione, as he owed her a dance and had yet to offer his congratulations on her newly married status. He found her sitting alone at a table, fanning her flushed cheeks. Taking a seat next to her, he cleared his throat to announce his presence.

"Oh, Draco," she exclaimed. "You startled me."

"My apologies," he said gravely. "I was wondering if you would care to dance with me."

"I'd love to," she said, rising to her feet and taking his proffered hand.

Draco led Hermione onto the dance floor, holding her in a similar manner as her new husband had, with one hand in hers and the other on her waist. He admired her form and the way her skirt swished as she moved, the pink material brushing lightly against his pant legs. Draco soon became aware of Hermione's piercing gaze on him, and he looked down at her, smiling reassuringly.

"Are you happy, 'Mione?" he asked her.

"Yes, very," she replied. "Harry completes me, Draco; I don't know what I'd do without him – or without you, for that matter. Your support of us in these past few months has not gone unnoticed; we appreciate everything you've done."

"Well, you know the way I feel about the two of you," said Draco, attempting to sound jovial and ignoring how his stomach seemed to coil in tight knots at Hermione's words. If only she knew the true depth of his feelings for her husband...

"Mind if I cut in?" asked a familiar voice from over Draco's shoulder.

The two turned to discover Harry standing there, a gentle smile playing across his face as he waited for Hermione, whose face had lit up at the sight of him, to accept the hand he was holding out to her.

"Not at all," said Draco, gracefully bowing out and retreating to the Burrow's kitchen, which had always been a source of comfort for him before. And there he remained until Ginny came to fetch him, informing the blond that the bride and groom were preparing to depart for their two-week honeymoon. Draco accompanied her outside to see the newly-wedded couple off, crushing her hand in his all the while. Ginny, bless her, uttered nary a complaint and simply let Draco continue to cut off her blood circulation.

Then, with hugs and kisses all around, Harry and Hermione disappeared with a pop, leaving the Weasleys and Draco feeling decidedly bereft of their company.

* * *

Hermione breathed a sigh of contentment as she and Harry reached their final destination. "Alone at last," she murmured.

"I get very jealous when I have to share you. Now, for two whole weeks, I have you all to myself," Harry whispered in her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her flush against his chest.

They stood together observing their surroundings. Kingsley had arranged for them to spend their honeymoon on a deserted island that had been renovated just for them. After all, nothing was too much for the heroes of the wizarding world. Currently spread out before them was an expansive beach, perfect for long walks in the moonlight. Directly to their right was a bungalow, which would be their living quarters for the next two weeks – spacious, but at the same time, cozy. A patio extended onto the beach and palm trees gently swayed in the breeze, adding to the romantic atmosphere of it all.

Nudging Hermione's shoulder, Harry inclined his head in the direction of the ocean. Accepting his silent invitation to partake in a mid-afternoon dip, Hermione took off with Harry hot on her heels. Laughing gaily, they ran through the water, pausing on occasion to splash each other, finally coming to a stop on the shore, just in reach of the waves which lapped at their feet. Clasping hands, they stared out at the body of water spread out before them. Harry raised Hermione's left hand to his lips, kissing where he had placed her wedding ring on her finger mere hours before. Sharing a tender smile, he then reached for her, placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him, before gradually dipping lower and eventually drawing the shirt she wore over her head and tossing it aside. Following Harry's lead, Hermione began to divest him of his clothes as well, until they were both completely naked. Without a trace of embarrassment, they began to kiss – Harry couldn't help but recall what he had seen emerge from Riddle's locket all those years ago, and the way in which that version of himself and Hermione had expressed their feelings for one another – before slowly walking further into the ocean, until Harry was forced to support Hermione's weight, as the water would be over her head. She unashamedly wrapped her legs around his waist and began to thrust wantonly. It wasn't long before both had reached their climax and came groaning the other's name.

Stunned by the intensity of what they had just shared, despite having done this same act many times before, Harry breathed out shakily, resting his forehead against Hermione's, who he still held in a firm grip to prevent her from going under. Though she could tread water reasonably well, it was selfishness on Harry's part that kept him holding on, a reluctance to let his wife go beyond an arm's reach. After so many years of being so close and yet so far apart, he was unwilling to release her now that he had her.

"Wow," Hermione whispered, surprisingly at a loss for words.

"You can say that again," Harry replied, leaning in to kiss her right cheek, then her forehead, followed by her left cheek, then her nose, and lastly, her lips. Hermione responded eagerly to his advances, winding her arms even further around his neck and clutching at his hair with a surprising amount of strength.

Though they could have continued to kiss for the rest of the afternoon – and they had all night for _that_ – there were more pressing matters to attend to, such as seeing what food there was available. Luckily, Kingsley had ensured that the island was fully stocked; they would lack for nothing during their stay.

* * *

Moving as one, they bustled about the kitchen making dinner. Hermione was working on a beautiful fruit salad, while Harry split his time between the stove, where he was stirring the pasta, and the counter, where he was busy creating their dessert, a wonderful tiramisu that Hermione had proclaimed his specialty as it had been what he made the night he had proposed to her. Having finished preparing their meal, they gathered a blanket and the necessary utensils and trooped down to the beach. Spreading the blanket across the sand, they made themselves comfortable and began to eat.

Although they spoke on occasion, making small talk when appropriate, the two lovers communicated more through their eyes than anything else. Just that morning they'd been joined in holy matrimony, which had created a bond between them beyond what had already existed. Hermione's diamond ring sparkled in the pale moonlight, a constant reminder of the connection they now shared.

Harry raised his glass of wine to Hermione in a toast. "Here's to us," he said.

Clinking glasses, Hermione leaned forward to share a charged kiss with Harry. "And all the years to come," she finished for him, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Dance with me?" Harry asked suddenly.

Hermione, who had grown used to Harry's impulsive behavior over the years, allowed him to pull her to her feet and straight into his arms. They swayed in place for a moment before Harry began to guide her around the beach, almost as if they were back on the dance floor at their wedding reception. At the dance's apparent conclusion, Harry dipped her so low that her hair almost brushed the sand, while still maintaining a firm grip on her arms to prevent her from slipping, and bent down to kiss her, slowly and sensuously. When he had finally helped her to stand upright again, she looked dazed and slightly stunned, as she brought a hand to her lips which were still tingling where Harry's had been moments before. He smiled unapologetically at her and surged forward to connect their lips again, albeit more briefly this time. Harry never _had_ been able to resist kissing her whenever the opportunity presented itself, and sometimes even when it didn't. Both he and Hermione were still occasionally plagued by self-doubt, and each sought to assure the other of the sincerity of their feelings. Harry, especially, having never been shown love growing up, did his best to make up for his own neglect by showering attention on those he loved, but none more so than Hermione.

"Why don't we go inside, and you can slip into something more comfortable?" he whispered, his breath puffing against her sensitive earlobe and sending shivers down her spine.

"Alright," she whispered back.

Taking her hand and lacing their fingers together, Harry led his wife back in the direction of their bungalow. Once inside, they passed silently through the darkened house until they reached their final destination – the bedroom. Pausing to briefly kiss Harry, Hermione slipped into the bathroom where she had previously stowed her outfit for just this occasion. Meanwhile, Harry was busy, too. While both he and Hermione had enjoyed their first time together immensely, Harry intended to make this an unforgettable wedding night for Hermione, worthy of anyone's "first time." He pulled back the gossamer curtains around the bed, and then placed lighted candles in strategic locations about the room before spreading rose petals on the floor and charming a disc to play romantic music in the background. When Hermione finally emerged from the bathroom, clad in nothing but a sheer black lace negligee, Harry felt his jaw drop. She looked stunning. Of course, he hadn't fallen in love with her body alone, but he wasn't about to complain.

"You look beautiful," he whispered reverently.

"Don't I always?" she simpered, flouncing over to the bed and perching on the edge of the mattress.

"_That_ you most certainly do," he chuckled, moving to stand before her and taking her hands in his. He raised them to his lips and kissed the knuckles, pulling her up so that she was standing level with him. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled coyly up at him; Harry couldn't believe how turned on he was by her behavior, however strange and unlike _his_ Hermione it was.

With a sudden surge of passion, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms like a child, and laid her gently down on the bed. He crawled on top of her and began to slowly undo the buttons to her dressing gown until she was bared before him, completely exposed and utterly vulnerable. She stared up at him with trusting eyes that spoke of her faith in his abilities as both a man, husband, and lover. Harry wasted no time in joining Hermione's state of nakedness, and both spent several minutes just taking the other in, hands stroking bare flesh and whispering promises for all the days and years to come.

In this instance, Hermione was the one to make the first move, rolling on top of Harry and fusing their lips together, releasing him only to suck on his neck and sometimes his collarbone. Harry moaned and writhed underneath her until he could no longer stand it and had reversed their positions. Now _Hermione_ was the one to feel the full extent of his emotions for her, and Harry soon had her begging for release. He had always enjoyed watching her in the throes of passion: spread out on the bed as she was, pliant to his every wish or command, and with her eyes squeezed tightly shut in what some might assume was pain but was actually pleasure, Hermione had never been more breathtaking. As she came down off her high, she looked up to find Harry smiling at her. She returned the smile; seeing Harry happy had never failed to make her happy, too.

"That was perfect, Harry," she whispered to him, leaning as far forward as she dared – fear of further straining herself beyond what Harry had already pushed her to limited her movements – to kiss his bare chest.

Harry smiled as she tried to stifle a yawn, bending down to press his lips to her forehead. "Sleep, my dear sweet girl," he murmured.

Hermione needed no further urging, succumbing to her body's need for rest. Harry chuckled lightly and, with a flick of his wrist, extinguished the candles before pulling the thin satin sheets over them both, wrapping his arms around Hermione and guiding her head to rest in the crook of his neck.

In this manner, their wedding night drew to a close.

* * *

It was several days later, and Hermione had woken up early, before the sun had even risen. She spent several moments just watching Harry sleep, during which he looked more peaceful than he ever had when he was awake. Sleep continued to remain elusive, though, and Hermione finally got up to fetch a book from her luggage, 'The Mists of Avalon,' before retreating to the patio where she had a lovely view of the horizon. Glancing occasionally between her still-sleeping husband and the pages of her book, Hermione soon lost all track of time. It must have been mid-morning before she sensed an additional presence behind her, and turned to discover Harry leaning casually against the doorframe, a playful smile on his face as he watched her.

"I love how you can get so caught up in a book that you forget all about your surroundings," he remarked.

"You're no better when you're working on a case," she quickly countered.

"Touché," he replied, and offered Hermione a cup of freshly-made coffee as he took a seat opposite her. "What are you reading, anyway?"

"The Mists of Avalon," she told him. "It's an interpretation of the Arthurian legends told from the point of view of the women. It's fascinating and I love it."

"It definitely sounds exciting," said Harry.

"Remember the last time I had my nightmare?" asked Hermione, referring to the events that had taken place the week before their confessions of love to each other when she had dreamed that she had accompanied Harry to his death. At his affirmative nod, she continued, "I was reading 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe' before I fell asleep. I've always been intrigued by magic, ever since I was a little girl, before I even knew that magic was real. I loved to read medieval-based stories because that seemed to be when magic was most prevalent. The people of that time faced danger at every turn, but good would always triumph over evil in the end. I envied the adventures that the heroes and heroines would go on because their lives seemed to be so much more exciting than mine was. Then I came to Hogwarts where I met you, and my life has become one adventure after the other ever since."

"Do you regret any of it?" asked Harry, gripping his coffee cup tightly as he waited for her answer.

"No, Harry, I don't regret anything, certainly not meeting you," Hermione replied assuredly. "Loving you has been the adventure of a lifetime so far, and I wouldn't want to miss out on a single minute of this," she finished, gesturing to the space between them.

Harry sipped his coffee, smiling at her from over the rim of his cup. "We haven't even _begun_ to live," he promised her.

"And what were the first seven years of our friendship?" she teased him. "A pleasure cruise?"

"Not exactly how I'd put it," Harry laughed. "Don't forget: I _did_ die in that forest. I'd say that my life really began upon my return."

"Mine ended when I thought you were dead," Hermione whispered, staring into her coffee cup in an effort to escape Harry's piercing gaze.

"I know, and I'm sorry for any pain that I may have caused you," Harry replied, reaching across the table for one of Hermione's hands. "But the point is that I came back. Death gave us a reprieve. That's what counts – making up for lost time, starting with now."

"I know," said Hermione. "I'm glad that we have this chance, Harry."

"Me too," said Harry, smiling tenderly at his best friend, wife, and lover.

Neither Potter would take the life they'd been given for granted. They would live each day to its fullest, making every moment count. But most of all, they would take every opportunity that presented itself to express the love they felt for their chosen partner, never turning down the chance for a hug or a kiss. They were soul mates, in every sense of the words, and had always been destined for each other.

* * *

After two blissful weeks on their tropical island, it was time for Harry and Hermione to return to the real world. With a final glance at what had come to represent paradise for them, the couple Apparated away, appearing again with a pop in the middle of the lawn of their new home. Their house was a modest two-story dwelling, designed to accommodate their family as it grew. There was space for growing flowers, as well as fruits and vegetables – Hermione was nothing if not practical.

They approached the house together, hand-in-hand. Harry stopped Hermione on the porch step, moving forward on his own to open the door alone. As it swung inward, he glimpsed a bundle of loose wildflowers situated in a vase on the hall table. Returning to Hermione, he scooped her into his arms and carried her across the threshold, pausing only to briefly connect their lips.

"Welcome home, Hermione," Harry whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

"I never left," she replied, placing her left hand that bore the glittering diamond wedding ring which signaled her commitment to Harry over his heart while leaning forward to join their lips for another sweet and innocent kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

I apologize for the delay in posting this chapter. I have no excuse except that I suffered from an extreme case of writer's block in regards to this story. Also, Draco may have accidentally hijacked most of the chapter. I have no regrets. As always, thank you to HarmonyLover for the advance read and beta. You're the best cheerleader a writer could ask for! :)

* * *

**Happily Ever After: An Epilogue**

_September 1, 2017_

Harry opened his eyes slowly as he adjusted to the early morning light streaming in through the half-shuttered blinds. Turning his head to the side, he observed his wife sleeping peacefully beside him. In the fifteen years since his and Hermione's wedding, Harry had yet to tire of waking up with the most beautiful woman – of both the Muggle and the Wizarding worlds – in his arms. Rousing himself more fully, Harry leaned over to kiss Hermione's cheek. "Sleep a while longer, love," he whispered softly in her ear. "I'll get breakfast started."

As Harry got dressed, he thought about the dynamics of his and Hermione's relationship. He recalled a Muggle movie that they'd seen once, in which a young woman was getting married and her mother said that marriage was simply being yourself with somebody else.

_That's been true of us since almost the first day we met_, Harry noted wryly.

Ambling downstairs, Harry proceeded to the kitchen. While he and Hermione still employed Kreacher and Winky, there were times, such as today, when Harry preferred to fix his family's breakfast himself. He liked one of the more pleasant reminders of his Muggle up-bringing. At the mention of his childhood, Hermione's face would harden, while her eyes simultaneously softened with sympathy. But Harry would just shrug and say that there was something calming about cooking, almost rhythmic in its application.

"I wish that Snape had explained Potions to us in terms of cooking," Harry would often remark with a laugh. "Maybe then I wouldn't have been such a dunce."

Being in the kitchen freed Harry's mind, and he found his thoughts turning to his four children.

Upon returning from their honeymoon, both Harry and Hermione had been surprised to discover that Hermione was already four months pregnant. That hadn't left them much time to prepare for the birth of their first child, but they'd managed, with the help of the Weasleys, of course. Five months later – on Halloween, to be exact – they welcomed Nicole Potter into the world. As their daughter grew, she became quite the tomboy – she cut her hair short and for many years her body could pass for that of a boy's – and insisted on being called either Nick or Nicky. The entire family obliged, and Nicky had soon formed a special bond with her aunt Ginny, who, having grown up with six brothers, knew what it meant to feel differently than other girls did and not care for the same things. If Nicky preferred racing brooms to playing dress-up, then that was fine with Harry and Hermione (especially Harry).

Two years later, Hermione again became pregnant, this time giving birth barely a week before her own birthday. Honoring Harry's wish to pay tribute to his family who had given their lives for him, the twins were dubbed James Sirius and Lily Jean Potter. And as far as Hermione was concerned, they were the best presents she could have asked for. Everyone spoiled the twins rotten, as though to make up for the fact that their namesakes were gone, while Harry did his best to make them feel that they were loved for who they were, rather than who they represented. He didn't want James and Lily to ever feel that they were expected to replace their grandparents or become exactly like them.

The twins got along well with Ron and Luna's children, Hugo and Roxanne, who were both twins and a year younger than James and Lily, and Neville and Ginny's children, who were a year older. Fred and Georgiana were also twins, named for Ginny's late brothers. When Fred died, he took half of George with him. As such, no one was surprised when George just didn't wake up one morning, less than a week after the battle. He'd lived only long enough to put both his and Fred's affairs in order. Now he was reunited with his brother, best friend, and partner-in-crime – his soul mate – causing mischief in heaven alongside Lupin, Sirius, and James, the dream team: two generations of Marauders.

Harry and Hermione thought that they were done with having children. Hermione didn't like the way being pregnant made her feel or act: she was overly emotional and snapped at Harry for the slightest thing. Even though he understood that it wasn't really _her_ who was mad, Hermione couldn't stand to see the look of hurt that entered his eyes. Harsh words were all Harry had known from the Dursleys, and Hermione had sworn to never make him feel the way they had. However, despite their belief that the three children they already had were enough, they got carried away one Christmas about two years after the birth of the twins, and nine months later, on a hot, muggy August, day, Hermione gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.

They named her Rosemary Potter, and everyone fell in love with her on sight, but none more so than Draco, who absolutely doted on her. As such, he quickly became her favorite uncle. She always looked forward to his visits, which were often, and cried whenever he left. Rose became Draco's world. That was the difference, he commented to Ginny once, between him and Snape. While Snape had loathed Harry for what he represented – Lily's preference for another man – Draco cherished Rose because she was a part of Harry, the man he loved. He vowed to protect Harry and Hermione's children with everything he had, even going so far as to give his life for theirs, just as Harry's parents had for their son.

This vow remained unknown to Harry, who was currently laying out plates, glasses, napkins, and utensils. Meanwhile, Hermione had crept downstairs several minutes before, intending to sneak up on her unsuspecting husband. She'd done a good job so far. As she leaned casually against the doorway, Harry had yet to notice her. His ignorance didn't last long, though. Turning around, he was confronted with the sight of his lovely wife wearing a pair of lounge pants and one of his shirts, which hung loosely from her shoulders. In her hands, she was holding a book; Harry could barely make out the title as being "Little Women."

"Good morning," said Hermione, pushing off from the wall and approaching Harry. She wrapped her arms around his neck – though only after carefully setting her book down on the nearest clear space available – and brushed her lips together with his. Harry responded eagerly to her advances, opening his mouth to accept her tongue. They continued to kiss languidly for several minutes before Harry finally pulled away, a dazed expression on his face.

"It _is_ a good morning, now," he replied when he could finally find the words to speak.

Hermione simply smirked at him and took her place at the head of the table. "Where are the kids?" she asked.

"Probably savoring their last morning of freedom and trying to store sleep for the coming term," said Harry. "I'll go see what's keeping them," he offered.

"Alright; I'll make sure that the breakfast doesn't burn," Hermione assured him.

With another kiss, Harry was on his way to rouse their children. He first stopped in Nicky's room, poking his head around the half-opened door to discover his eldest daughter sitting on her bed pouring through _Hogwarts: A History_, a yearly ritual on Nicky's part, yet all the more important this year because she had been named a prefect.

"Hey, sweetheart," said Harry softly to announce his presence.

"Hi, Dad," Nicky replied, glancing up from the pages of her book to smile widely at her father. Although Harry did his best not to play favorites, there was little doubt that Nicky held a special place in his heart due to her close resemblance to Hermione, not only in appearance, but personality-wise as well.

"Ready for another year at Hogwarts?" he asked, taking a seat near Nicky so that he was perched precariously on the edge of her mattress.

"Do you think I'll make a good prefect?" Nicky asked instead, ignoring Harry's question in favor of asking one of her own.

"I have no doubt that you'll serve Hogwarts to the best of your abilities, making both your mother and I proud," Harry replied, shifting until he was pressed close against his daughter and could wrap an arm around her shoulders. "You're bright, dedicated to your studies, and a loyal friend. The younger students will look up to you, while those your own age will respect you for balancing your duties both as a prefect and as their friend."

"Thanks, Dad," Nicky sighed, leaning further into his embrace and resting her head on his shoulder. "You always know what to say to make me feel better."

"That's what I'm here for," said Harry, bending his head to press a kiss to Nicky's temple. "Now, get your nose out of that book. Don't want to miss the train, do you?"

"No," said Nicky, laughing good-naturedly in acknowledgment of her obsession with books, learning and knowledge, just like her mother.

"Good girl," said Harry, patting her crooked leg as he rose to check on the twins. "See you downstairs."

Knocking on the door to James and Lily's room, Harry waited a moment before entering with caution. Though the Weasley twins were no longer with them, their spirit lived on in Harry and Hermione's children, Neville and Ginny's children, and Ron and Luna's children. All six were self-proclaimed pranksters and made up the fourth generation of Marauders. The original Marauders were, of course, James, Sirius, Remus, and the rat. They had been followed by Fred and George, then Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Now the Golden Trio's children were taking up the mantle.

"All packed and ready for school?" asked Harry, dubiously eyeing the twins' room as he wondered what booby-traps they had set up for unsuspecting victims such as himself.

"Yes, Dad," Lily replied sweetly, the picture of innocence. Surprisingly, though, she was often the mastermind behind her and James' pranks.

"Good, good," said Harry, nodding almost to himself as he took a seat at the foot of the nearest bed. "I want to talk to you two." The pair came to stand before him and Harry regarded them seriously. "Your sister has been made a prefect this year. Now, that's a heavy responsibility for one person to deal with. I don't want to hear of you two causing Nicky any grief. I understand that you have a reputation to maintain as the next Marauders, but please try to make your sister's life as easy as possible. She's nervous enough without having to worry about you two troublemakers. Okay? Can you do that for me?"

"Sure, Dad," said James, speaking for himself and Lily both. "You can count on us. We wouldn't want to do anything that would make you or Mum disappointed in us. We'll keep the pranking to a minimum, I promise. At least in the Gryffindor common room; no guarantees where the Slytherins are concerned, though..."

"Be nice, James," Lily chided her brother. "You know that Uncle Draco was in Slytherin."

"Yeah, but he's the exception," James quickly countered.

"He didn't become the exception until after the War, you know," said Harry, smoothly interrupting what was sure to have become an argument between the two combative siblings. "We both joined the Auror program and became partners, at which point he offered me a formal wizarding apology, thus breaking the mold he had been encased in up until that point."

"Wow, Uncle Draco was so brave to go against everything he had ever known, even though that meant separating from his family," James whispered, his estimation of his mysterious uncle increasing.

"Yes, he _is_ brave," said Harry thoughtfully, "One of the bravest men I know, as a matter of fact. Draco's as much a hero as I am, having risked his life for me on several occasions." Shaking his head after a moment to clear his mind of recollections of the past, Harry addressed his children again. "Anyway, I'll leave you two to finish your packing and any other 'surprises' you may have in store for us poor unfortunate souls."

With that, Harry left the twins laughing at his accurate statement while he made his way to his youngest daughter's room. He found her sitting at the foot of her bed, swinging her legs back and forth, a pensive expression on her face. Ordinarily, Rose and Nicky could often be found together. Despite the four – almost five – years separating them, the two sisters were remarkably close. Thick as thieves, people often commented on the sisters' relationship. Yet, on this morning especially, Rose needed the reassurances of the adults in her life more than the support she would receive from her older sister.

Harry steeled himself for what was to come. While he'd been excited about going to Hogwarts for the first time, his excitement was as much to do with leaving the Dursleys behind as with discovering that he was a wizard with magical abilities. With Rose, though, her experience was entirely different, having spent most of her life watching her siblings come and go and only being able to live vicariously through their experiences. Now, though, it was her turn. And it was understandable for her to feel a mix of emotions at leaving home for the first time, trepidation being the most prevalent.

Without a word, Harry joined his daughter at the foot of her bed, waiting patiently for Rose to speak first.

"I'm scared, Daddy," Rose admitted at last.

"That's normal," Harry comforted her. "You're embarking on a new adventure. That's bound to be intimidating. But you'll be surrounded by your friends and family. You won't be alone. Everything's gonna be fine."

"Is Uncle Draco coming with us to the station?" Rose asked.

"Yes, Draco will be there," Harry confirmed. "Are you ready to go downstairs for some breakfast before catching the train?"

"Yeah," said Rose, eagerly nodding her head at the thought of food. Worrying about going to Hogwarts for the first time had caused her appetite to diminish, but now it was back with a vengeance. "Let's go."

Harry laughed at her exuberance and followed as she pulled him along by the hand, down the stairs and into the kitchen where Hermione was putting the finishing touches on everyone's breakfast plate.

"Just in time," she said, turning her head to accept a kiss from Harry. Carrying a plate for them in each hand, she took her seat at the table, before everyone broke off into separate conversations that all seemed to revolve around returning to Hogwarts.

As they finished their meal, Harry spoke up, "Okay, everyone – time for presents." He and Hermione left the table, quickly returning with four separately wrapped packages that they proceeded to hand out to each of their children.

Rose had hers unwrapped the fastest. "My first diary," she whispered almost reverently. Every year, on the first of September, she had sat at this same breakfast table and watched as her siblings received their diaries, which Harry and Hermione said were for recording their thoughts and feelings throughout the year. In theory, when they were done with Hogwarts, each would have seven notebooks filled with recollections of their time at school. Now, _finally_, Rose had joined her siblings in the Potter tradition of keeping a diary.

At that moment, the fireplace flashed green and Draco stumbled out of the Floo. "Hello, all," he said to announce his arrival.

"Uncle Draco," Rose squealed, jumping out of her seat and rushing to embrace him. "Look, look – my first diary."

"Congratulations, Princess," said Draco, bending over to examine her prize and pressing his lips to the top of her head. He knew all about Harry and Hermione's tradition of giving each of their children a diary at the start of the school year, and also knew how much Rose had been longing for one of her own.

"All right, mate?" asked Harry, rising from the table and moving to shake Draco's hand.

"Yeah," Draco replied, shrugging slightly as though his well-being was of little consequence. "How's your family?"

"We're all good," Harry informed him. "This one –" Here, he gestured to Rose, who had yet to leave her Uncle Draco's side "– has been waiting on pins and needles for your arrival."

"My humblest apologies, milady," said Draco, executing a courtly bow and snapping his heels together smartly.

Rose giggled at his overly-dramatic actions and allowed for him to kiss the back of her hand like a proper gentleman would. "Oh, that's alright," she said, blushing prettily under his intense gaze. As if sensing that he was making her uncomfortable – the sole remaining Malfoy heir could be extremely charming when he chose to be – Draco next moved to embrace Hermione, kissing her once on both cheeks, before greeting the Potters' three other children.

"How's Corbeau?" asked Rose, following along at Draco's heels.

Lips tugging upwards as he thought fondly of his feline companion, Draco laughed lightly and replied, "Cory's doing well, although he's not as young as he used to be. He sometimes needs my help in getting up to places that he used to reach with ease."

"Why's that?" Rose inquired, her family's conversations fading to the background.

"He's getting old, sweetie," said Draco. "And at fifteen years, his eyesight is failing him, meaning that he often has trouble judging distances." His eyes sparkled with mirth as he recalled instances where Corbeau had been left scrambling for purchase as he sunk his claws into Draco's sofa in an effort to haul himself up. Turning his attention back to Harry and the others, Draco raised his voice to address the room as a whole, "Is everyone ready to go? I've just been to see Ginny and she asked me to remind you all that the train leaves at exactly eleven o'clock, so don't be late."

Rather than answer Draco directly, Harry turned to his children, "Is everyone packed?" At their nods of assent he said, "Then go get your trunks and meet back here. If you've forgotten something, Mum and I will send it to you."

The Potter children scrambled from their seats and raced up the stairs; each was determined to be the first to return with their trunk, another yearly ritual that Rose was at last allowed to participate in.

"You certainly have a way with children, Potter," Draco drawled, putting on an affected air that few had heard in years.

"I do my best," Harry replied evenly.

Draco smiled and inclined his head in concession to Harry's statement. "And how are you, Mrs. Potter?" he asked Hermione.

"I'm as well as can be expected, considering that the last of my children is leaving for Hogwarts," she said. "It's hard to believe that we'll have the house to ourselves again, isn't it?" she asked, turning towards Harry, a touch of wonder in her voice.

"A welcome change after having little ones underfoot for the past fifteen years, I imagine," Draco noted wryly.

"Yes and no," Hermione countered softly. "It's been a joy raising all four of them, and I wouldn't change a thing, but I won't deny that it'll be nice to have some peace and quiet around here for once."

As if to reinforce Hermione's previous statement, the sound of thundering footsteps could be heard overhead as Nicky, James, Lily, and Rose rushed to and fro in an effort to gather their belongings together, before finally clattering back downstairs.

"Goodness, you sound like a herd of elephants," Draco chided them good-naturedly.

"Would you rather we sound like flock of geese?" James was quick to counter.

"That might be an improvement," said Draco with a smile to let the four youngsters know that he was teasing.

"Are we all ready, then?" asked Harry, darting a glance at each of his children as if to judge for himself whether they were ready or not.

"Yes, Dad," the four chorused, a beaming smile lighting Rose's face up at the prospect of finally departing for Hogwarts.

"Allons-y!" Harry exclaimed, much to the amusement of Hermione and Draco and the confusion of his children.

"Harry, mate," Draco said slowly, "Not everyone speaks French or is going to understand such a blatant reference to Doctor Who."

"Right, sorry," said Harry, grinning sheepishly at his oftentimes over-exuberant enthusiasm for his favorite sci-fi television show.

Everyone traipsed outside, Hermione locking the door behind them, and began meandering down the path that led to the road where they would catch the Knight bus to the King's Cross train station – and, subsequently, Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

"Hi, Ernie," said Harry as he stepped inside after having stuck out his hand to flag down the purple triple-decker bus. The others filed in after him, Draco going last after having offered to carry Rose's school trunk. Choosing seats closest to the front, James and Lily found themselves sandwiched between their parents, while Nicky chose to sit next to Draco and Rose inserted herself on Draco's lap.

"Aren't you getting a bit old for this?" asked Draco, aware of Harry and Hermione observing him from their seats across the aisle.

"Never!" exclaimed Rose, tightening her arms around Draco's neck at the thought that he might eject her from his lap.

"Alright, munchkin; you won't hear any complaints from me," said Draco, bending to press a kiss to the top of Rose's head. He sensed more than saw Harry and Hermione breath sighs of relief, and he felt a momentary stab of guilt at the thought that in certain ways he and Rose were closer than she was with her own parents. He was quick to push such thoughts to the back of his mind, though, to examine at a later time. While he may never have Harry's love, at least through Rose he would have some part of Harry for himself. Perhaps, though, he should talk to the Potters later – to assuage his own guilt at acting as a parental figure for the young girl, if not to reassure them that he only had Rose's interests at heart and that he had no intentions of usurping their true place as her parents. Draco only wanted what was best for Rose, after all, whatever that was.

The trip to London passed quickly, and the seven travelers were soon debarking at the entrance to King's Cross. Everyone grabbed a trolley and strolled casually towards the barrier between Platform Nine and Ten.

"Nicky, you first," said Harry, and the eldest Potter soon disappeared through the brick wall. Next were James and Lily. At last, though, it was Rose's turn. "You want us to go with you, sweetheart?" Harry asked her kindly.

"No, I want Uncle Draco to take me," said Rose.

"Alright, we'll see you on the other side," Harry replied, disappearing through the brick wall with Hermione.

"Do you love my daddy?" Rose asked Draco without preamble the moment her parents were out of sight.

"Of course I love your daddy. He's saved my life in more ways than one. He's also my best friend," said Draco, "Your mum, too."

"But do you love them in different ways?" asked Rose.

"Of course, one's a man and one's a woman," said Draco.

"That shouldn't matter," Rose said petulantly.

Draco sighed in defeat. "No, it doesn't. What are you really getting at, Rosie?"

"Are you _in_ love with my daddy?"

"Yes," Draco admitted. "Yes, Rose, I am in love with your daddy, very much so."

"Is that why you're always risking yourself for him when you go out on missions together?"

"Yes, Rose, that's why. I love your daddy more than life itself, and I will never stop owing him for as long as I live, even after I've paid off my life debt, which he assures me I have."

"How come you never made a move before he married Mum?"

"Your mum makes him happy," Draco explained. "And I would never jeopardize my friendship with your daddy – not for anything."

Rose nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Will you ever tell him that you have feelings for him?" she asked.

"Probably not," said Draco.

"What if you were on your deathbed? Would you tell him then?"

"Maybe," Draco conceded, "If I thought that he didn't have long left to live either. I wouldn't want to make things difficult for him after I was gone." Rose was standing in thought, considering all that she'd been told. "Are we done with the inquisition?" asked Draco. "Otherwise, we should probably get through the barrier before your parents decide to launch a search party for us."

"Okay," Rose replied, agreeing easily. Without further ado, the eleven-year-old ran at the barrier between the two platforms, pushing her trolley in front of her and leaving Draco to follow after.

Shaking his head in amusement, Draco ran at the brick wall – as always, feeling that momentary fear that the barrier would refuse him entry – and emerged on the other side in a cloud of steam being expelled from the puffing locomotive. His eyes zeroing in on Harry, who was currently embracing Ron and Luna, Draco made his way over to the group, ignoring the looks of suspicion cast his way even after close to twenty years under the Golden Trio's protection.

"Luna," he greeted, kissing her once on both cheeks before reaching out a hand to clap Ron on the shoulder. He then knelt down to speak with both Roxanne and Hugo, who were entering their second year at Hogwarts. Draco shuddered as he recalled his own second year: the Basalisk; and how cruel he had been to not only Hermione, but to Ron and Harry as well. Rising to his feet again, he asked Ron, "Where's Gin? I thought she would have been here with Fred and George by now."

"If those two are anything like their uncles, then they probably pulled some last-minute prank, leaving Ginny to clean up the mess and still get them here on time to catch the Express," Ron replied, looking thoughtful.

Draco nodded absentmindedly as he looked around, observing the many families seeing their children off to school and searching through the smokescreen haze for a familiar head of red hair. Ginny was a special person, more so than Draco let on. She was his rock, his shoulder to cry on when life became almost too much to handle. In short, she was everything to him, almost in the same way that Harry was. At that moment, a young boy and girl appeared, each pushing a trolley loaded down with the standard Hogwarts' issued trunk. Following along behind them, and with a harried expression plain to see on her face, was Ginny.

The Longbottom twins, Fred and Georgiana – otherwise known as George, for short – greeted everyone, children and grown-ups alike, with joy, having missed their extended family despite their relatively short separation.

"I thought we'd never get here. Those two..." said Ginny, shaking her head with fond exasperation and gladly relinquishing her control to the group as she moved to embrace Draco.

"The troublesome duo strikes again, I take it?" he quipped.

"You have no idea!" Ginny groaned in response as she thought of the mess still left to clean up back home.

"Okay, kids," Harry called, his raised voice naturally bringing order to their rather dysfunctional family unit. "Everyone load their trunks into a compartment, and then it's time for goodbyes."

Draco helped where he could, but being the sole adult without a child of his own left him stranded, merely watching as various couples assisted their children with choosing a compartment that was close to their friends' and then heaving their trunks onto the racks above the seats, just as Fred and George had done for Harry all those years ago.

_A bittersweet memory, that day on the train,_ Draco thought. _If only I hadn't been such a snobbish prat, then Harry and I might have stood a chance. _ Watching Harry now, though, as he wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist, Draco dismissed his musings. _No use dwelling on what-ifs. What's done is done, after all. And if Harry and I had been friends, who knows what might have happened. Lucius might have sucked Harry in with promises of power, and then the wizarding world would have been lost._

Seeing that all the kids had now boarded the train, and hearing the whistle blow a warning, Draco quickly made the rounds of each compartment, doling out hugs and handshakes where appropriate, and being sure to save Rose for last.

"Don't forget about me," she begged him, whispering in his ear as she wrapped her little arms around his neck and held on tight.

"Never," Draco promised her. "I'll write you as often as I can. Being an Auror keeps me pretty busy, though. Study hard, but don't forget to have fun. You're still a kid, after all. There's no hurry to grow up. Being an adult isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Okay," said Rose, nodding seriously, her hands perched on Draco's shoulders, refusing to let go until the last possible moment.

As the train pulled out of the station, Rose's grip tightened infinitesimally, before her hands eventually fell away and she resorted to waving with all her might. The rest of the Potter clan – including Fred and George and Hugo and Roxanne, since they were all basically extended family – followed Rose's example, waving until the train rounded a corner and disappeared from their parents' sight.

Upon being released from Rose's formidable hold, Draco had retreated until he was behind Ginny, who leaned back against his chest and positioned his arms so that their hands were locked together on top of her belly. Ron and Luna, meanwhile, were mimicking this position, and Hermione was turned in to Harry's chest, her head resting on his shoulder as she waved goodbye to the last of her children.

While one adventure might have ended, another was just beginning.

* * *

Author's note —

"Corbeau" is French for "raven," a subtle reference to Harry and thus a substitute for Harry's love. I just find the idea of Draco with a cat adorable. And his memory of Corbeau struggling to get up on his sofa is based off of my own cat, Midnight, who is close to thirteen and has the same trouble.


End file.
